the season bright

"for somehow, not only at christmas, but all the long year through, the joy that you give to others is the joy that comes back to you."
- john greenleaf whittier (american writer, 1807-1892)

amen.

merry christmas, everyone.

like sapphires in boxcars

"adversity is the diamond dust heaven polishes its jewels with."- thomas carlyle (scottish historian and essayist, 1795-1881)

it's been a rough few months.
but - surely, surely - it can only get better.

worse things happen at sea, y'know.

looking on the bright side - my nature, ordinarily - has become more and more effortful as an unsatisfactory ending to my bus situation becomes more and more inevitable.
these are circumstances beyond my control, and they are compelling me into a worst-case scenario: back into the employment market, despite having a job i enjoy and do well.
frustration and anxiety - and my futile attempts to change the course of events - have kept me from doing the things i love to do.
*
taking pictures is what i miss most of all.

that's what friends are for.

"we'd never know how high we are, till we are called to rise; and then, if we are true to
plan, our statures touch the sky."
- emily dickinson (american poet, 1830-1886)

it was to have been a bit of photographic heaven: my best buddy, the beauty of the norfolk coast, the crisp fall light and colours, the endless sea and sky.
two days before my arrival, however, he stumbled in his stairwell and fractured his foot, so the dozen days became a totally different kind of holiday.
i turned nurturer. i cooked, cleaned, bottle-washed.
i encouraged.
i took no more then six pictures.
*
i didn't mind, though, at all.

from a) to b) and back.

i have been distracted, and distressed, these weeks gone by.
"my" bus service - the one that gets me to work for my (preferred) early early early shifts - may, may be discontinued.
(international airport? accessible? whyever?)
*
i can hardly cycle. can i? i can't drive, and i certainly can't swim.
i can hope, though.
*
i have proven myself good at that.

alone to a quiet supper

"a girl in the convertible is worth five in the phone book."
- mae west (american actress and sex symbol, 1892-1980)

can a biography ever have enough photographs?
*
during my commute to and from work - mostly "from", granted, since my "to" takes
place in total darkness - i read.
the book-of-the-moment is a reprint of "goddess" by anthony summers, his tale of
marilyn monroe's final years. i am captivated, but i find myself craving images.
*
bless youtube. i discover this bit of brilliance, and this, and this, and this:
wish, granted.
i have - magic! - pictures to enhance the words.

with a thud

i've been slacking for seven days.
it's time, i suppose, to get back into the swing of things.

the sands of time

"most of us can remember a time when a birthday - especially if it was one's own - brightened the world as if a second sun has risen."
- robert lynd (irish essayist and journalist, 1879-1949)

yes.
that many candles.

the truth you need to know

"far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. i may not reach them but i can look up and see their beauty, believe in them and try to follow them."
- louisa may alcott

these last four weeks - work and play in delectable balance - have made my days frantic and my nights fitful.
but i decided, and i did, and now i'm done.
for now.

my lessons well

the great wall negatives are plump squares, with soft, sweet edges.
the minolta autocord negatives trail pretty triangular tails in their lower right-
hand corners.
the bronica negatives slide, in two sprightly half moons, off the celluloid; the yashica mat negatives dangle, from diffident, delicate threads.
*
i have learned many things from this month of six-by-six's. most concern my limited self-discipline and my diminished ability to deal with deadlines....
but i have also learned to identify my exposed film in a single glance.
*
i am pleased.